Wednesday, December 14, 2005

One cycle of circulation

The sound of running water
Or was it the wind
That stirs the immortals song
Melodic by repeating words
No one any wiser
On what they really mean

Sitting still the body swings
Left to right in rhythmic twist
The bellows blow, a burbling brook
The vocal gets louder
Its time to breathe in

The breath dips down below
Mixes with essence
Meandering with ease
Up the back it seems to go
Moving with little effort
Before adjourning to the lighted room

Where the dark interplays with existing light
Creating forms and emptiness across the sky
A wisp of smoke a distant star
Neither head nor tail ever changing sights
In the middle of being, there was non-being
How it comes and how it goes
There is no need to know
Just behold the sights

Having enough, its time to release
When the breath leaves
The remnants dive below
Warming body regions as they go
This completes one cycle of circulation
The cycle of life and death

Aptly named the Circulation of the Light, it is indeed old.

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